


Signifying Nothing

by Alargebee



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Human AU, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, References to Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alargebee/pseuds/Alargebee
Summary: A small incident with the gorgeous French teacher leaves the newest member of the high school faculty, Arthur Kirkland, with a set of twins their father knows nothing about.
Relationships: America/Japan (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia)
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

_ Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, _

_ Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, _

_ To the last syllable of recorded time; _

_ And all our yesterdays have lighted fools _

_ The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! _

_ Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, _

_ That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, _

_ And then is heard no more.It is a tale _

_ Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, _

_ Signifying nothing _

_._ Arthur closed his copy of _Riverside Shakespeare_ and adjusted his glasses on his nose. It had been almost a week since he had started teaching in America, only a month since his abrupt move from his Stratford. He had barely gotten his degree when his younger brother suddenly needed to go to Japan for some, unknown reason and asked Arthur to take care of his house and his stuff while he was gone. Arthur didn’t have the slightest idea for his behavior, or how long he would be gone. 

“A while,” He had said, his voice distant and distracted.

“Alfred, this is stupid.” Arthur had been sitting on his couch, holding the phone to his shoulder while stirring his tea. Then, it was 10 in the morning, meaning that it had been about 3:00 A.M. for his brother. “Where are you going, anyway?”

“Tokyo. K-My friend called a little earlier, he needs- help. With something pretty serious. It’s kinda my fault, and he won’t be able to work for a while. He needs me to help him make ends meet, you know?”

“But for how  _ long? _ ” Arthur remembered his exasperation, his confusion. He didn’t have a lot of money as it was, working as an english professor. People had always told him that teachers didn’t always make enough, but he never really believed them. He did make significantly more than teachers in other countries, but maintaining an old manor in Scotland for his father cost a hell of a lot more than a single young english teacher could make while also managing to eat once in awhile.

It was embarrassing.

Even now, Arthur was forced to ask for money from his three older brothers, Ian, Allistor and Dylan, to afford to keep the old thing standing. But it was what their mother would’ve wanted. Alfred was his stepbrother, and though easily closest to Arthur’s age in their family, and didn’t really understand the importance of the manor to him. He had left to do university in America and hadn’t ever come back, and, truth be told, Arthur had become quite lonely when he had left. So Alfred just calling him out of the blue and asking to live in America for a few years was slightly irksome.

“I don’t know, Arthur. My friend is kind of, unsure of what’s going to happen to him, and he wants me to be there, just in case. No less than three or four years, I’m guessing.” This outlandish proposal with not really surprising, considering Alfred’s personality, but his attitude was uncharacteristically subdued.

There was a long silence on Arthur’s end at that point- he didn’t know what to do. Finally, he muttered under his breath.

“I’m going to kill you for this, you twat.”

A few weeks later, Arthur arrived at his new house in Los Angeles, just in time to see Alfred off. And then, he was looking for work and found a job at a public high school, and then, he was here, at this desk, waiting for the last of his students to file out of the classroom. So far, he had avoided a lot of conflict, and a lot of his students seemed generally interested in reading  _ MacBeth _ \- even if they only saw him as a bloody serial killer and not a man caught up in the snowball effect who dreamed of a perfect life and ended up making mistake after mistake.

Pulling off the glasses- as they were only really necessary for reading small print- he stood up and brushed off his desk of pencil shavings. As tiring as it was to teach these kids who would make scathing comments about his accent and his eyebrows, he loved the work. He didn’t really understand some of the remarks, however- he could sometimes hear whispers about a Mr. Bonnefoy, and how he should watch his back. He didn’t make much of these, and just worked through the day, trying to make sure his assets plus some money Alfred had given him would add up in the end.

Suddenly, his door flew open, making Arthur jump. He turned quickly, in case there was a need to defend himself, but stopped dead when he saw the man at the door.

He was taller than Arthur could ever dream of being, with brilliant blue eyes and wavy blond hair that went a little past his chin. He had carefully controlled stubble on his face, boots with  _ heels  _ and a pretty, perfect smile.

“ _ Bonjour, _ my name is Mr. Bonnefoy, but you can call me Francis.” He trilled, sweeping into the room, empty save him and Arthur, who had overcome his shock and was now looking a bit apprehensive. Francis leaned on the edge of the desk, looking to Arthur quite handsome. Realising that he hadn’t spoken due to his staring, he felt his face heat up and he shook his head, as if ridding himself of a fly.

“H-hello, Francis. My name is Arthur Kirkland. You are the french teacher, I presume?”

“Yours truly.” Francis said, winking, seeming a bit more pleased than he had been when he had walked in. “Since you are new to our school, I do not believe you know all of us very well. So, I have decided to have a  _ petit fête _ in your honor,  _ cher. _ ” He seemed to know the effect he had over Arthur, and wasn’t disguising it.

“Sorry?” Arthur knew a little bit of french, but he wasn’t particularly good at it.

“A small party. Here.” Francis handed him a small white envelope, made of thick, creamy paper. “All of the district will be there, as you are not the first new  _ professeur  _ recently. It is to be on this Saturday.”

“I-i’m not one much for parties,” Arthur said, his cheeks and ears burning. Francis’ eyes grew wide, and he looked hurt.

“But won’t you attend this one? It is a good chance to meet new people. After all, you are quite new to this country. I remember when I moved- It was very difficult. Can I not help a fellow?”

Arthur felt his repressed homosexual feelings to shoot through the roof. He was  _ so _ incredibly attractive, and he knew it.

“Er, y-yes. I’ll be there.”

Francis smiled again, then turned to leave. Just before he did, however, he took Arthur’s left hand with soft, warm hands.

“ _ Parting is such sweet sorrow.” _

After he was done, Arthur, red-faced, took to banging his head repeatedly on the his desk.

_ How do I get into these things? _

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

_ Fuck. _

Arthur didn’t do parties. He never had been able to, ever since his childhood, when he used to sneak out of house with his older brothers, get drunk, and get chewed out by his father with a massive headache. 

Also, being embarrassed by his brothers in public did wonders for his self esteem.

But here he was, and it was seriously degrading. He was in front of possibly the largest house he’d seen within a ten mile radius, later than he should have been- driving on the left side was an awful pain. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, especially because of his not-so-subtle feelings for the french teacher. 

He pushed through the gate and walked inside.

He was greeted by a blast of light and sound, nearly disorienting him. There were at least a hundred people milling about, talking animatedly and drinking from wine glasses. They were all completely at ease with the cloying atmosphere of people and were also totally fine with staring at him as he awkwardly stood in the door.

Wonders for his self esteem.

Suddenly, he felt an arm slip around his waist, and looked up to see Francis standing next to him. “Come with me,  _ cher.” _ He cooed, and Arthur felt his face go red. 

_ Why did he have to be so damn attractive? _

Luckily, americans generally don’t have a very long attention span, so they were returning to their activities. Francis steered Arthur off the porch and into an adjoining hallway to a smaller, less crowded dining room.

“D-do you live alone?” Arthur was awed that a high school french teacher could afford something like this.

“Yes, unfortunately. This home was my wife’s…” He trailed off, his eyes going distant. Arthur got a feeling that he was touching on an unwanted subject, so he tried to backtrack.

“Oh. Are you divorced?”

Emphasis on  _ tried. _

Francis looked at him with a sad smile. “Oh, no. My wife, Jeanne, died a few years ago. It was a freak accident, they said. The building she was in caught on fire, and everyone escaped. But her.” His eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “But never mind all that now, shall we? Have some wine.”

Arthur glanced at the glass. He knew he was a lightweight, but would it be rude to refuse this?

He took the glass.

The night went downhill for Arthur, it seemed. After the first glass, he couldn’t stop, and Francis was more than happy to provide for him. And, Arthur wasn’t what his brother called a ‘cute drunk’, no.

Rambunctious, delirious, and brutally honest would be more effective adjectives in this situation.

“He just up and left, you know? Didn’t even tell me what the hell was wrong. Who in their right mind would want to go to Tokyo?” Arthur slurred, unable to stop the words from pouring out. Francis was apparently very good at holding his alcohol, as he didn’t appear to be acting any different. He did look slightly worried, but Arthur couldn’t notice. 

“The only reason I have known a person to leave so abruptly is because of love.” Francis said. "My dear friends from Europe have done such things. But of course, love does not always work in their favour.”

“Neither does mine.” Arthur muttered, feeling his last grip on his action slip away. “There was this guy once I was in love with. He was really gorgeous, long hair, it was great. We dated for a while, but then he told me one day that he had to leave because he was moving back to China, and I got really sad, you know? Everyone hates me.”

Francis looked a bit apprehensive, but he smiled anyway. Besides, it’s not as if Arthur could see him all that clearly. “Arthur,” He started carefully. “I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

“What’re you getting at, you bloody frog?” Arthur shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

“You’re in no shape to drive home at in this state. Can’t you see that almost everyone has left? And the only ones left are outside.” Francis stood up and put his arm around Arthur’s shoulders. “I have a spare bedroom you can borrow.”

“Why are you all like that? ‘I have’, ‘I have’, ‘I have’! You’ve got everything somewhere, don’t you?” Arthur looked at Francis, trying to decide which of the three Francises were the real one.

“What do you mean by that?” Francis looked quizzical, leading the barely conscious Arthur up the stairs and into a hallway.

“You’re so damn attractive, how don’t you have a girlfriend? You’re like a real gentleman. You sure you’re french?”

“Quite.” Francis replied, his lips pressed together tightly. Suddenly, Arthur couldn’t take it. He grabbed Francis’ arm and slammed him against the wall.

“All these smart answers, you don’t even know what you’re doing, do you? Or you do. That’s it, you know and you’re using people. How do people even  _ do _ that?”

Francis looked slightly uncomfortable with the position he was in. “Arthur, I do believe you aren’t thinking right-”

“Don’t give me that crap. I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you. I bet you’ve had sex with everyone in the school by now, right? Why not me?”

“I do not believe you would be happy with this tomorrow morning.” Francis said, glancing away. “If you would like to have sex with me, I believe you should wait until-”

Arthur cut him off by smashing his mouth into Francis’. “Shut up, you twat.”

That’s when he yanked off Francis’ tie and his memory cut, remembering only the aggressive kissing and the throbbing of his head, which just grew steadily worse. 

It was so strong that he had to open his eyes.

Ornate white ceiling, sun streaming through the window. He rolled over to turn off his union jack alarm that he had practically glued to his cabinet in Stratford.

Stratford.

He wasn’t in Stratford anymore.

Arthur shot up, suddenly noticing his lack of clothing. His headache was so bad he couldn’t see properly, his mind was racing as he tried to comprehend what was going on. 

Wait.

He glanced quickly to the bed beside him, and saw it made up neatly, his wine and sweat soaked clothes folded carefully on the floor beside the bed. 

The door opened.

Arthur yanked the bedsheets up to his chin, his face going red. Francis was dressed, his hair combed, and he was carrying a plate filled with eggs and sausage. 

“Good morning, Arthur.”

Arthur went red, wanting nothing more than to jump out the window and break his neck on the ground. “W-what happened last night?”

Francis set the plate on the table next to him. “You are not good with alcohol.”

“Oh.” Arthur didn’t say any more, because there was nothing left to say.

“I have some clothing you can have, if you wish to. And we also should talk.”

“T-thank you, and I’m terribly sorry about last night, I wasn’t thinking-”

“Oh, it’s perfectly alright.” Francis smiled, avoiding Arthur’s eyes. “You are quite wonderful, if I do say so.”

Arthur felt his face heat up even more.

“I’ll leave you to change, then. Would you like to talk afterwards?”

“I-I can talk to you at the school next week, can’t I? I-I mean, if it’s not inconvenient, I j-just don’t feel, erm-”

“Ready? I understand. If you do excuse me, I must attend to some business in the kitchen,  _ cher. _ ” He smiled once more and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Arthur crawled out of the sheets, trying to ignore the feeling of filth clinging to his body. He pulled on Francis’ clean clothes and grabbed his stack, trying the food Francis had left for him. It was surprisingly good, and he finished it as fast as he could, leaving the plate on the table. He crept down the stairs, feeling more and more like an intruder by the second. Glancing in the kitchen, he saw Francis’ back turn, and was going to walk in, to apologise, to try to make his actions less vile.

He rushed out of the house just as he felt his tears spill over.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Everything was terrible for Arthur.

First, he left his beautiful home in Stratford. Then, he had ruined his chances with Francis a little over a month and a half ago at that party. After, he had barely enough money to pay for his groceries and the manor. And now, he was hunched over a toilet bowl, vomiting his guts out.

He was tired, upset, and felt like shit. It certainly wasn’t much of an improvement over the last few days. At least the school year was almost over- three more months, right? He wiped his face off and flushed the toilet, intent on washing his mouth out thoroughly, when his phone started buzzing.  _ March 15. _

_ “Beware the Ides of March,” _ He muttered. It was Monday, and his superstitious english mind decided to blame his sickness on the day of Caesar’s murder.

He arrived at the school late, almost missing the start of his class, but he made it on time. He let them finish reading early and ended the class with the discussion of the date.

“How many times was he stabbed?” The boy leaned over his desk, gripping his copy of  _ MacBeth _ tightly. Arthur smiled in spite of himself. He had been like this once, too.

“He was stabbed at least once by every conspirator, but we can only guess how many times he was truly stabbed.” The bell trilled loudly, and the rest of his students leapt to their feet and rushed out of the room, shouting their goodbyes. He got up to close the doors, smiling softly to himself in spite of his earlier sickness.

That’s when he noticed the figure standing in the doorway.

“The ides of March, hmm?” Francis asked, brushing into the room. “ _ Et tu, Brute?” _

“Y-yes I find engaging students particularly interesting- Francis, why are you here?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, Arthur. Did I do something to offend you?” Francis looked genuinely concerned as he leaned back against the whiteboard. Arthur dropped his eyes- he had been avoiding him- and closed the door.

“Nothing. I’ve just been busy, and feeling under the weather, and I’ve been caught up with some family issues recently-”

“You avoid me when we are in the lounge together. You see me and walk out.”

Arthur felt his head pounding. He was so tired, and he really didn’t want to get into any worse trouble with Francis than he already was. “Look, Francis-”  
“Was I a one-night-stand?”

Arthur jerked his head up, meeting Francis’ eyes for the first time. “What?! No, it’s nothing like that! I didn’t mean anything, I was really drunk, and I-I, er-”

“You’re not attracted to me?”

“You bloody frog, I’m sure everyone in this city is attracted it you. It’s not something you can really avoid.”

Francis cocked his head to the side. “So, you are attracted to me, correct?”

“Yes.”

“I’m assuming you would want to start a relationship.”

Arthur blinked. “N-no.” He ran a hand through his messy hair. “I just want to forget that ever happened. I’m a decent man, Francis. I don’t want to start a relationship just because I dragged you into something as stupid as that. And, I’m sure you couldn’t date me, anyway.”

To his surprise, Francis smiled. “I’m glad you understand, Arthur. You are a very interesting man, and I would like to continue being friends with you. But I will be too busy recently. My younger sister, Catherine ? She has come under the weather. Throwing up in the morning, dizziness and tiredness. Her husband, Chao _ , _ is worried sick.”

Arthur felt his heart metaphorically stop. “W-what do you think she could have?”

Francis glanced at him with amusement in his eyes. “It is quite obvious,  _ cher. _ She’s pregnant.”

Arthur almost fainted on the spot.

“Arthur, are you alright?” Asked Francis, rushing forward to catch him. Arthur stumbled a little, than swayed. “Y-yes, I’m fine. Just a migraine. I’m sorry.”

“If it is only that, I am afraid I must go. I shall see you later, I presume?”

Arthur only nodded, too bewildered to speak. “I-In the lounge. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” Francis swept out of the room, all doubts lifted from his mind. For Arthur, however, it was the complete opposite. He sat down heavily in his chair, again on the verge of tears.

_ “Then fall, Caesar.” _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catherine and Chao are Monaco and Macau.


	4. Chapter 4

“No, oh God…” Arthur collapsed back against the bathroom wall, utterly devastated. This couldn’t be  _ happening, _ not to him. He only was twenty-three, barely out of school, he couldn’t do something as massive as  _ this. _

He couldn’t be  _ pregnant. _

Yes, he knew he was a man, at least legally. But his childhood doctors had sometimes joked about him being intersex. But they couldn’t have been telling the truth.

Could they?

Arthur snatched another one of seventeen tests out of the container on the counter. There it was again, the little + sign. This just wasn’t  _ possible. _ Why did this kind of stuff always happen to  _ him? _

“No no no,.” He muttered, trying desperately not to cry. This was such a mistake. Of course, he knew who the father was. It was definitely Francis. That thought made him relax slightly. Francis was a good man, he would take responsibility for this mistake.

Except it was  _ Arthur’s _ mistake.

“He already said he wasn’t interested,” Arthur muttered, smashing his face into his knees. This was  _ his _ fault, all his fault.

And nobody needed to know.

After a couple of hours just laying there on the floor, Arthur managed to get up. How long had it been? The party had been in early February, and it has been almost three weeks since the possibility of pregnancy had even come to him- he’d been putting it off for the sake of his pride and the fear of finding it to be true.

“So that’s… Nine?” Arthur muttered, counting on his fingers. March was almost over by now. Nine weeks.  _ How many months was that? _

_ About two. _

Two months was a long time not know something this massive. Arthur glanced down briefly, and was shocked to see that he was actually kind of showing. Not by much, but If you knew what you were looking for…

He got up and shoved all of the tests into his trash can, running into his room and burying his face in his pillow. 

“Okay,” He said, trying to get his thoughts together. “It’s been nine weeks. Out of about forty weeks, that’s… thirty one?” Arthur rolled over onto his back, resisting the urge to throw up- this wasn’t caused by his morning sickness- Thirty one weeks left. 

Thirty one weeks of pure hell.

Shit.

He smashed his fists into the bed beside him, trying to find some way to relieve the pain, but he couldn’t. It was his fault, his fault,  _ his fault. _

He couldn’t even stop crying.

His phone started to buzz, and he sat up quickly, temporarily disorienting himself. Who was it? He didn’t really give out his phone number to just anyone.

“Hello?” He stuttered into the receiver.

“Hey Artie! How are you?”

It was Alfred.

“Never been better. Why’re you calling?” Arthur fell back onto his back, trying not to sound as if he had just been crying.

“It’s not that important, really. Arthur, are you okay?”

He loved and hated his brother.

“I’m fine, Alfred. What is it?”

There was a long silence on the other end. “Arthur.”

“What?!” Arthur snapped, feeling himself tearing up again. He couldn’t start crying  _ now. _

“You’re not fine. Hold on-” There was a rustling on his end. “I’m gonna come over.”

“What?! No, you can’t do that! Alfred, I’m fine! What about you staying in Japan with your friend?” He could hear Alfred gathering up his stuff. “Alright! Fine. If you put your shit down, I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Just don’t buy a fucking plane ticket to come see me.”

Alfred stopped moving around, seemingly satisfied.  _ “He cracked, Kiku, I’m staying.” _ He muttered, and Arthur barely heard. “So what’s wrong.”

“Who’s Kiku.” Arthur demanded, sniffing.

For a second, Alfred hesitated, and Arthur could tell that he was biting his lip, like he did when he was guilty and trying to think up a cover story.

“Alfred…”

“He’s my friend, alright? We were roommates in college.”

“Alfred.”

“We watched anime together.” Alfred was scuffing his foot around on the floor. It was squeaking loudly, so Arthur assumed it was bare.

“That’s not it.”

“Yeah, it is! He’s fine, I’m fine, he’s just a little sick, that’s all.”

Arthur sat up. “You had a job at NASA. Your dream job since you were like  _ six. _ You’re a twat if you expect me to believe you left just because your friend was a bit under the weather-”

“Iggy? Are you still there?”

Arthur was digging his nails into his palms, tears running quietly down his face. Just a bit  _ under the weather. _

_ He was chewing out Alfred for the same thing he was doing himself. _

“Artie? Hey, stop that. Arthur!” Alfred sounded guilty.

“I-I’m fine, Alfred. Listen, I have to go.”

“No! You never even told me what was wrong!”

Arthur jumped up off his bed, unable to keep the wavering note out of his voice. “Tell Kiku I wish him luck.” He slammed the door to the bathroom closed.

“What? Arthu-”

Arthur hung up the phone and hurled it at the carpet.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2016, btw.


End file.
